


The Wedding Grinch

by youarethelight



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: FS Wedding, Fitz hates weddings, Fluff and Humor, He's such a Grinch, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-13 01:52:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13560168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youarethelight/pseuds/youarethelight
Summary: It was a universally known fact that Leopold James Fitz hated weddings.[written for TFSN Secret Valentine on tumblr]





	The Wedding Grinch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reyoffitzsimmons](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=reyoffitzsimmons).



> Happy Valentine's Day to my FSValentine [reyoffitzsimmons](http://reyoffitzsimmons.tumblr.com/). I was super nervous about posting this as I'm not really a writer and this is only my second FS fanfiction. I thought a fanfic would best suit your prompt and I had fun playing around with it.
> 
> I haven't had time to ask for a beta or anything so I do apologize if there are any mistakes (not sure if some the ages etc..are correct but for the purposes of this fic they are).
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day ❤

...

It was a universally known fact that Leopold James Fitz hated weddings.

He didn't hate love _per se_ (although the image of his Aunt Carol attempting to tongue her fourth husband at the alter was forever seared into his brain for all eternity), it was more the theatrics of weddings Fitz hated. The whole concept of weddings to him seemed like a factory process; _meet, fall in love, get married, have children, get divorced..._ Of course, Fitz only had his own dysfunctional family and soap opera TV couples his mum seemed to love so much to influence his thoughts at a young age.

"Why do people get married?" he had asked one day, after spending a gruelling morning at his Aunt's house looking at wedding photos. 

"Because they love each other," he mum had replied.

"Yuck."

"You love me, don't you, Leo?" she had asked, pulling Fitz onto her lap and kissing him all over his face.

Fitz had laughed but rolled his eyes affectionately. "Yes, mum. But I don't want to _marry_ you."

Fitz was not the type of boy to chase around the girls and pull their pigtails as a sign of affection. For a five year old boy, the thought of marrying a girl made him _"want to be sick"_ in all honesty and he stayed away from the opposite sex much as he could.

Fitz had attended six weddings before he was the age of thirty (too many for his liking he might add) and not a single one had been a simple affair. His father's side of the family in particular had an air for the dramatics and their weddings were always over the top and forced. Most of the couples had winded up divorced several years later (or in one case months), and one half, usually on his father's side, had taking up bitching about the other whilst downing a bottle of gin and causing a scene at the next family wedding.

Fitz, the socially awkward (albeit genius) boy he was hated any situation that made him want to crawl up into his skin and hibernate for a very long time.

His very early memories of his families weddings were being made to watch home movies of his Aunt Carol's third wedding. His Aunt had sat him down on her musty sofa in front of her TV where he was forced to listen to his Aunt provide a play-by-play commentary on how much of a dream-boat her husband George was. There was list: 1) He was handsome, 2) He was rich 3) He was an excellent lover ( _"The boy did not need to know this!"_ , his mother exclaimed in shock when Fitz told her about his Aunt's comments several hours later), 4) His accent was sexy as hell ( _"Again, why are you telling him this?"_ ) 5) He was an excellent business man.

Of course, the irony was that he was not an excellent business man. He was, in fact, a crook who was pilfering funds from his Aunt's bank account to pay for his shoddy business deals. He was arrested soon after and his Aunt then met Ricardo, an extremely _well-endowed_ Argentinian man who then became her fourth husband.

The good thing that came out of this divorce was his Aunt burnt all her wedding tapes and Fitz never had to suffer through the pain of watching her third wedding over and over again (little did he know that her fourth wedding would include weekly slide shows for several months, including the honeymoon and several swimsuit pictures of them both he wish he could unsee).

That was only the start. The hatred continued when he was six years old where he attended his first official wedding. His cousin Alice was getting married to; as Fitz would refer to as he got older: _"A weird skinny bloke who looks like he's been smoking too much crack for several thousand years"._ The thought of having to attend this wedding and interact with this man, whose interactions with Fitz so far had been nothing short of awkward, was bad enough. However, it was made worst when he was informed that he would be the ring bearer. 

As far as Fitz was concerned he would rather be at home watching a brand new Science programme for kids he discovered when he flicked the TV on after school, but when Alice approached his mum asking whether "Cute little Leopold" would want to be the ring bearer his mum's face lit up. Of course, at six years old, _Little Leopold_ didn't completely understand his mum's jubilation or what exactly a ring bearer was. Apparently, (and when he got older this is how he described it) he was the Frodo Baggins of the wedding, made to watch the rings and escort them safely to their destination. The whole process turned out to be a bit more tedious then the journey to Mount Doom and when Fitz found out all he would be doing was walking down a long concrete floor he was less enthused.

They also made him practice several hundred (although Fitz knew logically it was only about ten times, he would always tell the story as if it was a never ending Groundhog Day). _"Why do I need to practice walking, mum?"_ he had whined.

To assure he was able to complete the task satisfyingly, at dress rehearsal they rewarded him with Mars Bars when he managed to make successful lap after lap.

He also had to wear a suit and tie which irritated him greatly as he felt like he was trapped in a cocoon, being choked by expensive fabric he wanted nothing more than to rip from his body. His trousers felt stiff and uncomfortable and his mum caught him doing lunges on the stairs as they were waiting to leave the house in order to stretch out the material.

His mum, however, thought he looked like a "Charming beautiful boy." Before the ceremony she continuously fawned over him proudly, smoothing his hair down with her fingers, and brushing his suit, treating him something akin to royalty. Fitz tried to pry from her grasp every opportunity he could manage.

His Aunt's were no better, worst in fact, once they caught sight of Fitz in a suit and tie they pinched his face so hard they left red marks all over his cheeks.

"Leave the boy alone," his father barked, causing Fitz to look at him ludicrously. His father had never showed any concern over Fitz before, always told Fitz that "embarrassment was part of life" and that the bullies in school were part of Fitz's development into a man. "What are you looking at boy?" he snapped as Fitz continued to stare at him dumbfounded. Fitz's mouth had formed a small 'o' shape and he cautiously shut it, tightening his lips as much as they would allow.

"Come now Leopold," his mum said, flattening down his suit again and ushering him into the Church foyer. For the next five minutes he was coached by the maid of honour Sally on when to enter through the Church doors. He groaned, _honestly_ , he had gone through this countless times already. Did they really think he couldn't handle walking down an aisle?

Well ... they were right. Little Leopold tripped at the last leg of the journey and sent both rings flying across the church hall. The next twenty minutes was spent with the best man lying on the floor with a stick attempting to retrieve one of the rings which had fallen between a crack in the floor.

The worst part was that somehow everyone blamed Fitz for ruining the wedding, although they didn't take into consideration Fitz' Uncle Lyle who showed up at the reception drunk and, in a flying rage, knocked over one of the tables. Glasses smashed and plates hurtled through the air whilst security attempted to pin down his Uncle who was screaming out loud about _"That bitch who left me for her boss."_

Fitz's mum had tried to cover his ears to block the more profound swear words but she was unsuccessful and Fitz's vocabulary widened that day.

"That little blight ruined it all," one of his cousin's sneered whilst passing his withering Uncle on the floor. She looked pointedly at Fitz as she said it. One stern look from his father seemed to suggest he felt the same way and he grabbed Fitz by the scruff of his collar and declared they were going home.

His father belittled Fitz all the way through the car journey, informing Fitz that he was a disgrace and an embarrassment to the family. Fitz had muttered under this breath "I thought embarrassment was part of me being a man?" hoping his father would not hear. However, his father ears were like a hawk and he glared at Fitz through the rear view mirror.

To say Fitz was punished after this would have been an understatement.

...

Eight year old Leopold James Fitz hated weddings. 

Why they attempted to drag him to another one when he so-called 'ruined' the last one was beyond him. He wanted nothing more to be at home studying his new Science kit that his mum bought for him for his eighth birthday. She had caught him staring longingly at it through the shop window and couldn't resist the yearning look on his face. His father had turned his nose up at the gift after Fitz had unwrapped it, informing him that Science was for 'geeks' and that he should be spending his time kicking around a football with 'normal' boys his age. If kicking around on a ball on field was considered normal then Fitz was far from normal. Fitz hated sports just as much as he hated weddings.

_And he really hated weddings._

The subject of Science seemed to be a recurring theme at family gatherings. His family would prod and pry, asking him what his hobbies and interests were. When he told them his favourite school subject was Science the rest of his family would look at him questioningly. His cousin Alice laughed like it was a joke before ruffling his head and her husband just stared at him with wide un-moving eyes, making Fitz uneasy.

The second wedding he attended was his Aunt Carol's marriage to her fourth husband, Ricardo (" _You know, the one with the huge-_ "). Fitz couldn't get away from the women (and his cousin Joshua) in his family at the ceremony, at every turn there seemed to be a female (and his cousin Joshua) gushing over Ricardo's... eh hem... _traits_. The giggling drove him crazy and he grimaced as they circled around him like hungry vultures. 

Even his mum was immune to the apparent charm. "Mrs Fitz, looking as radiant as always," he said, bending down to kiss her hand. She blushed fifteen shades of crimson and spent the next ten minutes fanning her face with a leaflet.

The ceremony was over the top, just like his Aunt Carol. She wore a huge fuchsia pink dress with ruffles, gold diamontes and a train, which her fifth child and bridesmaid, Lucy, had to chase down the aisle to avoid it getting stuck in the benches. Carol would occasionally hitch up her dress so she didn't trip over but every time she moved her top half would spill out, giving the ceremony a view of her breasts.

Fitz felt like he was going to be sick.

Once the ceremony was over, the guests moved into a separate room for the reception and dinner (although Carol and Ricardo had practically eaten each other at the alter so Fitz wondered if they would even need food by this point). 

_Food._

Food. The one shinning light in the whole wedding farce. The food at the last wedding had actually been pretty good and if Fitz was forced to sit through an entire ceremony of his Aunt and now-Uncle calling each other pet names during their wedding vows then Fitz was going to eat his share.

However, as he sat down the cling of a knife hitting glass bought him out of his hunger state and he groaned. _The speeches._ He couldn't catch a break.

Fitz twirled his fork in his hand and traced patterns with his knife across the tablecloth whilst the speeches commenced. He listened to his Aunt prattle on about the love of her life and how he 'saved' her when she slipped on a wet floor in the supermarket. She made some joke about corn on the cob which had the guests roaring in laughter. 

Her speech was last of the three others because, naturally, she talked the most. She continue talking about her near death experience whilst the servers started to bring the food out to the tables (they had been waiting for ten minutes already and food was getting cold). "One wrong move and I could have died," she choked, "could have hit my head on those cans of tuna and I would not be standing here today." She sobbed, Fitz was pretty certain she was faking tears, but one large drop cascaded down her face and into her roast beef.

Fitz burst out laughing. A few heads turned to look at him, including his father's, but he was spared any further comments when Ricardo stood and declared that the food was ready to eat.

Fitz grabbed his knife and fork and licked his lips hungrily but before he could take a bite his father had picked up his plate and dumped the contents onto his own. He then placed the empty plate in front of Fitz, who watched his father take a chuck of meat and stuff it into his mouth. He sunk back into his chair, stomach growling. 

This didn't go unnoticed by the rest of the table, who gave each other nervous looks but didn't say anything. His mum looked like she wanted to speak up but his father glared at her and, instead, she looked at Fitz apologetically before carefully cutting up her food.

This wasn't new for their family. Their family meals were often eaten in silence and, if there was any conversation to be made, it would be what time his father could expect the dinner to be on the table the following evening.

He knew his mum didn't mean anything by her silence. Sometimes, it was better that way. He would often hear her crying softly in her bedroom when his father had gotten raging drunk and stormed out the house to the pub. Fitz would stand by the door frame and listen to her sobs and, knowing he was there, she would unlock the door and let him lie with her for a while.

Once his father excused himself from the table, his mum (after making sure he was out of sight) pushed her plate over to Fitz where he polished off her leftovers in two bites. She moved closer, pulling him close to her chest and smoothing his hair as an apology. 

His 'acting up' in the ceremony was not forgotten by his father and when they got home Fitz was punished again.

Punishment. That's what Fitz associated with weddings. _Punishment._

...

Ten year old Leopold James Fitz hated weddings.

All he can tell you about this wedding is that he ended up in A&E after his cousin Alice, now divorced from her drug-dealer husband, got drunk and through the ice bucket across the room. It crashed against Fitz's skull, causing him to black out and wake up in a hospital bed hours later after receiving several stitches to his head.

His father left the family three weeks later.

...

Fifteen year old Leopold James Fitz hated weddings. 

His father had been gone for five years by this point so Fitz and his mum were, luckily, uninvited from all future gatherings from that side of the family. His father's family seemed to disown them after his father had walked away, even his Aunt Carol would pretend she didn't recgonize them after bumping into them in the shopping centre.

His mum's family were much more mellow and Fitz actually liked interacting with them on occasion ( _Hey, he was still an socially awkward teenager, can't blame him for not enjoying the company of others all day every day_ ) but they were a small family, most of them living away, and Fitz's mum was an only child.

He figured that was the end of weddings throughout his childhood but then his mum got a job working in the local hospital and made a good strong circle of new friends. Fitz was happy for her. She had become a recluse after her husband left her, Fitz noticing how her tiny frame shrunk more and more each day. She had become stressed, the dark circles not leaving her eyes for several years and it was only when she got her new job did the colour start to come back to her features.

Right now, as Fitz watched her from across the room at the current wedding he was attending, she was a vision. She was laughing brightly with her fellow co-workers as they sipped champagne at the bar. She wore a long emerald green dress and heels; which Fitz is certain he had never seen her wear in her entire life before; and her hair was twisted into an elegant bun on top of her head.

Seeing his mum so radiant and happy almost made Fitz forget he was supposed to hate weddings. That is, not until his mum's friend Jane attempted to set him up with her daughter. Fitz was at "the age" where dating had become part of the norm at his school, however, Fitz simply just had no interest in getting to know anyone or going on a date.

His mum had attempted to peek his interest but knew it was a failing task so she gave up after a while. _"I just want you to be happy, Leo,"_ she had said, both of her hands cupping his face. Fitz had told her he was happy with just the two of them and she smiled, kissing him on the cheek.

Jane and her daughter, Charlotte, a young girl with olive skin and braided hair, who was wearing a yellow dress (which made Fitz blink several times by the sheer brightness of the colour) hovered in front of him as he leaned against the wall. He was trying to finishing his homework, he had stuffed a small notepad and pen into his jacket pocket and had been scribbling down notes and ideas all throughout the ceremony. Charlotte, who looked just as awkward as Fitz, gave Fitz a shy smile whilst her mum wasted no time (and had absolutely no tact) in commenting on how "cute" they would be together.

"Your mum tells me you've never had a girlfriend," she said, making Fitz flush. He adjusted his collar, trying to look around for some sort of sign that would get him out of this situation. "Charlie here," she continued, pushing her daughter in front of Fitz, causing them both to bump heads awkwardly. "She hasn't had a boyfriend either." She then looked at them pointedly. "I'll leave you two to talk."

Charlotte, as awkward as she found the situation, tried her best to cut the tension. "Hi, I'm Charlie," she said, holding out her hand but Fitz still held his notepad and pen in his and just stared at her outstretched arm in confusion. Charlotte asked him what the notepad was for and when he muttered "School" she started to question him him about his school and his studies. 

"I'm leaving soon," Fitz said bluntly. "To join The Academy."

"Oh," she said, trying her best to sound interested but Fitz knew she clearly didn't have a clue what he was talking about. "I want to study ballet."

"Right," he said, over pronouncing the 't', not really knowing how to answer her.

"Right," she breathed. "I know my mum can be quite forward, but if you want we could go the movies sometime -"

"No, thanks."

"It doesn't have to be a date. As friends?"

"No," Fitz said without reserve. ( _Yes, he was aware he was now the one with no tact._ ). "Sorry, I have school ... things."

"OK," she said, nodding and walking away.

Fitz, however, realised she had taken more offense to his rudeness than he thought and Jane caught up with him later, announcing he was a "Very rude boy who needs to learn some manners," in front of the guests, and worst, his mum.

Fitz wasn't punished psychically, like he would have been done by his father, but his mum had some grovelling to do with her friendship group the next following weeks.

_He didn't ask to be set up against his will._

Romance. Not for him.

Weddings. Not for him either.

...

Twenty-one year old Leopold James Fitz hated weddings. It was a _glaringly obvious_ known fact by his best friend Jemma Simmons. 

However, whilst knowing this she still managed to drag him to two weddings during their time at The Academy. She just _insisted_ that he accept the invitation to Kelly and Paul's wedding, that was being held in a small church just ten minutes off campus, and didn't give in until he became so completely and utterly frustrated with her that he said yes. 

"Oh, it will be _SO_ much fun," Fitz exclaimed, putting on a very fake, very English accent.

"Don't be dramatic," she said from behind closed doors. He was currently stood in her dorm room, waiting patiently outside the bathroom door whilst she finished getting ready. Their friendship was comfortable enough that he let himself into her room. It was a habit now, neither of them knocked anymore and neither of them bothered to lock their doors unless they were going out or sleeping.

Fitz traced his fingers along her bookshelf. "Come on Simmons, I want to leave so I can get there early and slip out early."

"You're such a wedding Grinch." He could practically hear her rolling her eyes from behind the door.

"This was your stupid idea in the first place." He picked up a piece of paper she had left on top of the desk. "Are these your schematics for the new project?"

He didn't mean it to but the words came out some-what bitterly. This was the first project in a while where the two were not partnered together. Jemma's new boyfriend Milton had requested to work with her and she was too nice to say no. _"It'll only be for one project, Fitz."_ Fitz, therefore, was left stuck with Jenny. Jenny was nice enough, but working on his project with her just wasn't the same. There were no arguments over the design work, no late night cram sessions in the library, no waking up on each other's shoulders after being hunched over their paperwork for several hours, no disgusting Pot Noodle _"We've only got five minutes, Fitz"_ snack breaks. In a manner of all speaking it was boring.

"I just thought I would get a head start as I had a few ideas -"

"Jemma, promise me you're not doing all the work?"

"Milton ... helps," she said, her voice muffled through the door.

Fitz scoffed. "Yeah, just agrees with everything you write or say more like it." _The guy was a dick._

He heard Jemma sigh. "I promise you I'm not doing all the work -"

"Because if you are I will gladly drop Jenny and help you."

"Fitz," she laughed. "She's perfectly nice -"

"Boring," he mumbled. There was a brief silence. "I mean it, though, Jemma. Anytime -" 

"I know, I know," she said. There was a creak as the bathroom door opened. "I just - I had some spare time."

"I thought you would be spending all your time sucking face with Milton," the words came out harsh and forced and she could sense his tone. He placed her papers back onto the desk and turned to look at her.

"Fitz," she said warningly. "You have to learn to get along with Milton. He is perfectly - what?"

Fitz was staring at her with a dumbfound expression, his breath hitching as he took in her appearance. She was wearing a red dress which hung just below her knee and hugged at her curves. Her hair had been let down from her usual smart pony tail, falling just by her milky shoulders that were on display. She could feel his eyes burning into her skin and she twisted nervously on the spot.

"Am I ... do I look OK?"

Her voice brought him out of his trance and he blinked twice before attempting to answer. "Umm - yeah - I - I - you look ..." he stammered. "I mean to say ... you - I - "

There was a knock on the door and Jemma turned around to answer it, leaving Fitz stammering like an idiot.

Milton had entered the room at this point and Fitz was spared any further stammering by his arrival. The three of them left for the ceremony, Fitz feeling like an awkward third wheel, and crammed into a taxi together.

If anyone asked Fitz what happened during the actual ceremony he wouldn't have been able to you. He managed to get separated from Jemma in the crowd and she and Milton ended up seated in front of him. Milton's abnormally round head had blocked Fitz's view. _Not that Fitz really cared, he hated weddings remember?_ But Milton's head enraged him in a way he couldn't quite explain. He sat staring at it for an hour, wondering if there was bowling alley nearby as it would be perfect for knocking down bowling pins. " _I'd get a bloody strike with that thing,"_ he snickered to himself.

Kelly and Paul's reception was spared the usual boring and sickening speeches. Paul's brother, the best man, was a comedian and he was actually pretty funny which made the speeches much more bearable than usual. The bride and groom had made a few lovey-dovey comments towards each other but Fitz managed to power through by humming the Doctor Who theme tune.

When the first dance arrived though Fitz was in for a treat. They decided to for-go the usual slow dance and pick an up-beat dance tune. They announced to the guests that they had choreographed a whole dance routine which was met with cheers and whoops from the crowd.

A few minutes into the routine Jemma had nudged his elbow. "Fitz, she hissed, "stop laughing." She was attempting to be serious but Fitz did not miss the smile creeping up on her face.

They were alone at one of the tables at the back of the hall. Milton had exclaimed he had a bad stomach and had locked himself in the bathroom. 

"Come on, Simmons," Fitz nudged her arm in return. "You can't tell me that's not funny?"

At that precise moment the newlyweds danced past them doing something weird with their arms and elbows which Fitz could only assume was something from the chicken dance. Fitz and Simmons giggled loudly into their napkins which earned them a 'tut' from a relative sitting on the table opposite. 

After the hilarity was over the couple asked the DJ to play a more refined song and requested that other couples in the room share the floor with them. There was an awkward air around the table as Fitz and Simmons looked at each other before turning away quickly and watching the couples dance instead.

"They look so in love, don't they?" she said to no-one in particular as she watched Paul spin Kelly around in his arms.

"I suppose," he said.

She must have picked up something in his tone then as she turned to look at him with a look Fitz could only assume was pity. "Oh come on, Fitz..."

"Come on Fitz, what?" he said moodily. "I haven't said anything."

"You'll find someone."

_"What if I already have?"_ he thought but opted for "Not likely" instead.

She placed her hand over his. They were ice cold and Fitz jumped a little at her touch. Instinctively he covered her hand with his own warmer one. "I mean it Fitz," she said, not even looking down at their entwined hands as it felt so natural to them by this point in their friendship. "You're smart, you're kind, you're handsome -"

"You think I'm handsome?"

The question was left lingering for a few moments and just as she started to open her mouth Milton appeared behind them looking sickly. _God, this guy is such a dick._

For a moment there Fitz could have sworn there was something between them. Something that twisted his insides, in the worst yet best way possible. Something that made his chest tighten and his palms sweaty. Something he had been trying to fight for a while but something he knew he couldn't. It was some small glimpse of hope that maybe she would look at him differently, look at him more than just her 'best friend in the world', look at him like he was her everything.

Instead, Milton had chosen that particular moment to spin Jemma around in his arms. The move was inelegant and caused Jemma to bump awkwardly against his chest. "You should drink some water," she told him but he dragged her out onto the dance floor, Jemma shooting Fitz an apologetic look as she left.

Fitz glared at them sulkily for the rest of the evening. He was so wrapped up in watching ~~her~~ them that he didn't even hear Jenny approach and proposition him. "No," he had growled at her after she requested a dance for the fifth time. He sunk lower into his chair, watching _'bowling ball head'_ and Jemma through slanted eyes (Milton was barely standing by this point, still looking extremely ill). Jenny left offended and would continue to ignore him the rest of the semester, only talking to him about their project when necessary.

He had spent so much time being angry that he didn't even realise that the pre-booked taxi he ordered had turned up, waited twenty minutes and then left. He didn't notice that he was still at this wedding two hours after he planned to leave.

When Milton collapsed on the dance floor later Fitz performed a silent conga line in his head followed by a _"I'm going to hell"_ as he reluctantly got out his chair to help. They dragged Milton out onto the lawn area and propped him up against one of the benches. Jemma dabbed his sweaty face with a damp cloth whilst Fitz fed him water through a straw.

They sat in silence for a while, the only sounds were Milton's heavy breathing and the hoot of a nearby owl in the night. Fitz managed a brief glance at his watch and groaned. 10:45 PM. 

"He told me he loved me," she confessed after a while, smoothing the cloth over Milton's forehead and leaving it there to wring her hands in her lap. "When we were dancing."

Fitz didn't say anything. He had no words. _Actually_ , he had about a hundred, but they were all profanities.

"Say something," she urged him, lifting her head to meet his expression. His brows were creased but she didn't question him further.

"Did you ... do you?"

"I don't know," she picked up the flannel again and smoothed it across Milton's cheek. "Maybe."

Fitz just nodded in acceptance, watching her trace patterns against the cloth in her hands. Of course she does.

_God, he really hated weddings._

...

Twenty-two Leopold James Fitz hated weddings.

The second wedding Jemma dragged him to was a year later and, if he was being completely honest, he didn't remember much of it. Jemma had bought Milton with her again and Fitz had gotten stupidly drunk as a result. He caused a scene by puking all over one of the cakes ( _"Who needs four different ones anyway?"_ he had slurred afterwards) and passed out against the wall. Jemma had attempted to pour coffee down his throat but he hated the taste and grimaced the whole time.

It was the first time Fitz had ever been drunk. He'd had the odd beer now and again but he wasn't the type to go out partying every week and much preferred quiet evenings in with Jemma watching old Doctor Who reruns. He had tried to distance himself as much as possible from Milton lately and whenever he was around Fitz would maraciously disappear causing Jemma to question him on it several weeks later.

"Milton thinks you hate him," she said, trying to corner him in the library one Saturday morning as he crammed for their big exam.

"I don't hate him, Jemma. I just - "

"You just what?"

Fitz was walking a fine line these days, attempting to bite his tongue and not say anything remotely negative against her boyfriend but it was becoming more difficult every time Milton's head came into view. He stood from the desk and placed his books in his bag. After swinging the bag over his shoulder he said: "I just ... don't think he's good enough for you, that's all."

He'd left then, letting his words hang in the air.

She'd requested that he attend the wedding with them the following week. "I know you don't want to go but I feel like I'm losing you. I don't know what's going on with you lately and I just ... want my best friend back."

So, here he was, passed out on a chair in the corner of the room, his head banging against the wall as it flopped around unceremoniously. He was only mildly aware of his surroundings, could hear the beat of some chart tune being played by the DJ, loud shouts from the bar as guests drank shot after shot, the clanging of glasses in celebration. The only thing he was certainly aware of were Jemma's hands, softly combing through his curls as she tried to keep his head from falling down. If she was trying to coax him into the land of the living she was failing miserably, her touch was so gentle against his skin that he found himself drifting to sleep against her hand.

"I broke up with Milton," she exclaimed, causing his eyes to open wider. He wasn't able to quite manage to open them fully but he could see the outline of her figure through his lashes. His heart started hammering slightly, remembering parts a particular drunken conversation he had with Milton earlier that evening which he wish he could forget. _"Your big head is too big for Jemma's little one, mate."_

"I just got ... so fed up with him agreeing with me all the time," she admitted. "It was annoying."

He cracked a partial smile at this and she noticed, smoothing his hair and smiling at him as he blearily looked at her. "Hey there, welcome to the waking world."

"God," he groaned, his insides screaming at him in protest as he sat from his slouched position. "I'm so sorry, Jemma."

"It's OK," her hand never leaving his face even as he shifted in his chair.

"Was I really that bad?" he asked.

"You don't remember?"

"Do I want to?"

"Well ... you shouted at the bride, shouted at the groom about the bride, argued with the best man, shouted at Milton, vomited in a few places, kissed the mother of the bride -"

"I - What?"

"Well, technically, she kissed you," she laughed. "Very drunkenly planted a big one on your lips. You did push her away but it was funny."

He groaned in embarrassment. "Remind me never to drink ever again."

They settled into a silence for a few moments whilst Fitz reached out to grab a glass of water on the table. "What did - did - did I say to Milton?" he hoped his voice sounded convincing enough to suggest he couldn't remember their conversation.

"Oh, I don't know," she said. "I'd only heard about it after he left."

"I'm sorry about... you know - the break up -" he said, looking at her from the top of his glass.

"It's OK, it wasn't right."

"No ... it wasn't."

And there is was again. That 'something' moment. 

"Oh, you're awake," the bride said. She came into view , breaking the tension. "You owe me $1000 for puking on my dress."

He turned to look at Jemma with a _"I didn't, did I?"_ look and she gave him a sorry smile. He groaned and planted his face in his hands. He suddenly felt very sick again.

$1000 dollars and a gruelling hangover later Fitz decided he still hated weddings.

...

If you would have asked what thirty year old Leopold James Fitz thought about weddings he would have answered:

"You know... weddings ... not so bad."

The words were said unexpectedly during a peaceful silence and they caused Jemma to lift her head from where it rested on his chest and look him in the eye. " I mean it. They're pretty good actually."

She laughed out loud at his statement and looped her arms around his waist, pulling him closer. They were swaying on the spot in the middle of an abandoned warehouse. The room was dark and dingy, the only light a sliver of grey from the moon as it creeped through the broken windows. It smelled of a mixture of gasoline and mould and water dripped from the broken pipes above and splashed over their boots.

The ceremony had been simple. When you're on the run from the Government you have be stealthy and a small wedding in the middle of a building that had seen better days seemed crazy enough to work for them. Daisy, however, had insisted on at least one wedding tradition... the first dance. She had punched in a wedding playlist on her phone whilst Fitz and Simmons danced to the first song on the playlist 'Never Stop' by Safetysuit ("Wedding version," Daisy had said excitedly, holding out her phone like it was a lighter).

For someone who claimed to hate dancing Fitz had taken the lead, taking Jemma by the hand and twirling her towards his body, catching her mouth in a sweet kiss as they laughed in unison.

"What's so funny?" he mused as Jemma continued to giggle at his recent declaration.

"Fitz," she said directly. "For as long as I've known you you have hated weddings."

"I think you're grossly over exaggerating there, Jemma."

"At Paul and Kelly's wedding you laughed at their first dance -"

"They were doing the macarena -"

"They were not -" she laughed.

"They might have well have been. Who moon walks on the first dance?"

She laughed again, burying her face into his neck. "So ..." she looked up at him, biting her lip thoughtfully. "What changed your mind about this new development, Dr. Fitz?"

"Dunno." He was trying to play coy but she could see right through him. "This wedding's not so bad," he huffed dramatically.

"Not so bad?" she said, quirking up an eyebrow.

"Yeah, you're alright," he said, kissing her nose and smiling widely at her.

"Too bad we won't get a proper honeymoon," she snuggled into the crook of his neck.

"Yeah, maybe when this is all over..."

They fell into a comfortable silence again, swaying to the music. After several moments he felt her mouth move against his neck. "We still have the wedding night though - "

"We do?" he matched her smirk as she raised her head to look at him again. "Hmm... dark and dingy... _very romantic. _" He teased her whilst one of his hands came to rest on her face and he stroked her cheek softly. "Leave the romance to the pros, Jemma."__

__"Who said anything about romance? Maybe dark and dingy was what I was after," she pulled him flush against her body and he groaned into her ear. "There's a lock on the lab door, you know."_ _

__She then brushed her lips against his ear and he all but trembled at her touch. "Why, Dr. Fitzsimmons, defiling the lab, how dare you suggest something so inappropriate." This caused her to laugh out loud and she pulled him into a soft kiss._ _

"So ... ," she said, in an attempt to bring their breathing back down to steady levels, "if all other weddings were like this one you wouldn't have hated them so much?"

"Nah," he said, shrugging. "I would have. You see, the others were missing one key feature..."

"And what's that?"

"You." The words were spoken so soft and sincere that she brought her hands up to comb through his hair, before they came to rest on his cheek, causing him to lean into her touch.

"I've been to two weddings with you, Fitz."

"Yeah, but it's not the same. I didn't get to marry you in either of them."

She kissed him again, deeply and urgently which resulted in a "Get a room" from Daisy in the background.

"So, weddings. Not so bad, huh?"

"No," he mused, talking her hand in his and pressing their foreheads together. "Not so bad."

...

Fifty year old Leoplold James Fitz walks his only daughter down the aisle.

He joins his wife at the front of the ceremony and takes her hand in his, letting his fingers ghost over her knuckles. Sitting here, watching his daughter marry the love of her life, he is torn with wanting to rip the guy's head off for taking his baby girl from him and wanting to cry tears of joy.

He looks over at his wife, Jemma has tears in her eyes and she turns her head to smile widely at him. He remembers the moment he married her all those years ago and his chest tightens. It hurts but it's wonderful. And he wouldn't change it.

If you asked Fifty year old Leopold Fitz how many weddings he attended in his life time. He would tell you two. The only two that ever mattered.

Maybe some weddings did mean something more after all.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: jemmablossom


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